


give love a try

by gypsywillows



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: 2012 luke meets 2018 luke, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Established Michael Clifford/Luke Hemmings, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Magical Realism, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Non-Graphic Violence, Panic Attacks, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-06 12:44:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17345468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gypsywillows/pseuds/gypsywillows
Summary: Luke wakes up in his bedroom, the one he's slept in for the majority of his life, only to meet himself from 2012.And maybe Luke from 2012 teaches Luke from 2018 a little bit about love, and maybe Luke from 2018 opens his eyes and decides to face the fact that he really can't hide his love anymore.





	1. what would you say to your younger self?

**Author's Note:**

> writing this is gonna make me fucking cry.
> 
> ok so basically muke is very very real in this fic; it's centered around that fact, where 2012 is when luke and michael started becoming a "thing" and 5sos is starting out and as time goes on they can't be together because of fame and stuff... yeah.
> 
> (this fic is totally not based on my actual beliefs about muke sksksksks)
> 
> title(s) from give yourself a try by the 1975, but maybe try listening to outer space while reading this because this fic is also kind of inspired by it

There's a show tonight, and for promo purposes, the band goes out to meet fans during the day. It's nice, don't get me wrong, Luke loves meeting fans. A lot of it involves small talk and taking selfies, and it's become so familiar and routinely that Luke could go through an entire day with his eyes closed and hands tied behind his back (not literally but, you know).

They usually do it in pairs, so Luke's outside the venue with Calum. Luke doesn't have a problem with that, since he's actually usually assigned to do fan stuff with Calum anyway. He's already stopped to take numerous selfies with fans, and sometimes he likes to take the fans' phones and record a little video message. It's endearing how they react, and Luke appreciates how most don't burst into tears, scream in their faces, or try to grope them. Most.

A lot of fans are pretty chill about meeting them. They hold casual conversations like normal people, ask them how their days are, if they're excited for the show, etc. Fans ask the same questions, talk about the same stuff, and Luke has a preconditioned repertoire of responses in the back of his mind for any question a fan asks. As said before, it's become a routine.

Luke isn't necessarily  _tired_ of it... but he's just tired. He doesn't really know why.

After talking to several fans in the front, Luke notices another fan standing behind the throng of teenage girls. She's singled out for some reason, seemingly not wanting to be a part of the crowd. She's wearing an oversized black hoodie with the hood up and a black skirt over sheer black tights. From what Luke can tell, she has very bright lilac hair and a philtrum piercing.

Honestly, she doesn't stand out  _that_ much since she looks like a typical goth fan, but she's standing apart from the crowd, watching them intently. That's why Luke notices her.

Luke is signing a tattoo outline for another fan when he shoots her a puzzled look as if to say 'why aren't you over here?', and she just smiles and shakes her head in response. Luke pouts a bit, sighing as he turns back to the signature. He assumes that she wants to speak with him alone, which is something that almost never happens, and there's nothing Luke can really do about it.

But Luke doesn't want to ignore it; he doesn't want to leave a fan hanging when he knows she probably wants to tell him something important (or something along the lines of 'I love the new album' or 'you look really good today'). He really wants to  _try_ to talk to her.

He shuffles forward a bit, trying to get her to follow him to where the crowd dissipates, and she actually does. She takes careful steps, trying to avoid being noticed by the rest of the fans, but the fans take notice of Luke's movements. Some of them try to pull him back, but he's too focused on trying to get to the fan who actually hasn't gotten any attention yet.

Eventually he reaches the end of the crowd, where there are maybe two or three fans standing. The rest of the crowd isn't too bothered, since they have Calum. The girl meets Luke at the end, smiling as she approaches him.

"Hello there," he says, mirroring the girl's smile.

"Hi," she replies timidly. She holds out a copy of their most recent album and a sharpie. Luke takes both and signs it. She watches him in silence, and when Luke looks up at her, she's watching his hands move.

When he's finished, he hands the CD and the sharpie back to her. "There you go," he says. She thanks him, but her smile starts to fade. He notices this, and it's probably because she won't get much time with him. It's a common thing among fans. It barely bothers him anymore.

"How are you?" he asks, trying to stay neutral.

She looks him straight in the eyes. Hers are very green.

_Green._

Her smile is gone now. "I'm okay. What about _you_?"

Something about this girl is unsettling, and Luke doesn't know why. She's not threatening in any way, in appearance nor stature, so why is Luke feeling so  _uneasy_?

"I'm good," he chuckles.

The girl blinks. Her eyes are still green, but some of it seems to have faded.

"Really, Luke?" she asks. It's not sarcastic. It's genuine. And yes, Luke has gotten questions and responses like this in the past, where fans are genuinely concerned and ask them about his well being. He tells them that he's doing really good, because he is most of the time. He's doing good now. He doesn't see why he can't respond in the same way.

"Yes, I am." Luke adds a grin, asserting the fact that  _yes, he is doing good._

The girl is still looking at him, but she narrows her eyes and furrows her brows. He can feel her gaze piercing into him, and he hates to do this to a fan but he _really_ wants to go.

"Calum—" Luke starts to call, but he's cut off when she grabs at his hand.

It's not an aggressive grab. Actually, it's quite tender, and suddenly Luke feels compelled to keep talking to her, even though his body is screaming at him to get away. The fans around them seem to notice her, and some give her nasty looks, and one even shouts, "Hey!"

She removes her hand from Luke's as she murmurs an apology. Luke turns back to her, despite the fans' disapproving glances.

"Luke," she says, "if your younger self saw you right now, what would he think?"

Luke is slightly taken aback at the heavy question. Usually it's the other way around; in interviews people would ask him what he would say to his younger self, not what his younger self would say to him now. He likes the question though. Maybe he's been asked it before, but he can't remember how he responded.

"Um, he'd probably think I was really cool. And a lot better looking," Luke replies with a humorous tone.

She's not laughing. "Would your younger self be proud of who you've become?"

Luke is starting to get a little frustrated, because he feels like she's really trying to imply something, but he doesn't want to be rude. "Oh, definitely," he says. "He'd be really proud of all we've accomplished as musicians."

"And as a person?"

Luke opens his mouth to respond, but then he realizes he doesn't  _have_ a response. It's not in his collection, despite his brain furiously racking for an answer. Luckily, there's a call from their security, telling them to wrap it up. Luke smiles at the girl apologetically, but he's honestly very relieved that he has to leave. He mouths a 'sorry,' and heads into the venue, waving back at all the other fans in the crowd. They wave back.

The girl with the lilac hair and green eyes doesn't; she only watches as Luke and Calum and the rest of the crew disappear inside.

-

Luke is thinking about her question a lot more than he should.

He thinks about it during soundcheck, even though he's asked different questions by different fans. He thinks about it as they're performing. He thinks about it afterwards, when they're all coming down from the show and relaxing in the dressing room. And no matter how much he thinks about it, he can't come up with a definitive answer.

He thinks his younger self would be quite proud of who he's become  _as a person._ He's made it through many hardships and struggles. Sure, he's partied and drunk a lot, and maybe he did experiment with things he shouldn't have, but other than that, there's a lot about himself to be proud of. He's sure his younger self would look up to him, both literally and figuratively. After all, he's definitely grown taller since then.

But even when he's satisfied with the answer he's come up with, he still thinks about it when he falls asleep that night. The question is ringing in his head; it's on a constant loop, and Luke is surprised when he starts to feel himself drifting off. He didn't think sleep would come so easily, but it's a pleasant surprise.

Though he can still hear the question in his sleep.

-

Luke can feel himself waking up. It's kind of the worst part of waking up, when you can feel your eyelids fluttering open and the light pouring in. He can feel his muscles tensing and then instantly relaxing. And then he can see a blur of a room, a very familiar room—

A very familiar room that isn't his hotel room.

Suddenly Luke is more awake than ever. There's light coming in from the window to his left, and there's a desk, his hotel room doesn't have a desk—

There are posters and painted walls and... 

Luke's in his bedroom. His bedroom at home. In Sydney.

He's pretty sure he's dreaming. He has to be dreaming. He very certainly remembers falling asleep in his hotel room in a completely different continent. But it's so real, his bedsheets, his window, the light, everything. All the small details of his room are there, including the footprint on his wall from when Michael decided it would be a good idea to see if he could kick through it.

(He couldn't, but it left a nasty mark on the wall and a very pained ankle on Michael).

Luke shoves the covers away and swings his legs over the bed. It's honestly kind of small, even though he's been home plenty of times since the band started. Nevertheless, he could never get used to the feeling of his bed not fitting him anymore. He sits there on his bed, feet planted on the floor. He stares down at it, burying his hands in his hair.

He's dreaming. He needs to wake up again, for real this time.

"Wake up, wake up," he mumbles to himself. He even pinches himself, but he feels nothing but a pinch.

"Fuck!" He curses to himself as he stands up, maybe a little too quickly. The room is a lot smaller than he remembers as he starts to pace around it. He's still wearing the same clothes he was wearing when he went to bed. His hair is still the same. Everything's the same, except for the fact that he's awake in his fucking bedroom.

He can hear footsteps coming up the stairs, and he doesn't have enough time to hide before the person walks in.

Luke nearly screams when he realizes he's come face to face with himself. On the other hand, younger Luke _does_ scream.

"What the hell?! Who are you?" younger Luke exclaims.

"Wait wait, I can explain—" And Luke realizes how dumb that is because he really  _can't_ explain.

Young Luke reaches into the pocket of his blue striped hoodie and pulls out an iPhone 4 (Luke had forgotten iPhones used to look like that). "I'm calling the cops!" he screeches.

"Just, wait...  _stop,_ Luke!" Luke shouts. He never thought he'd say his own name like that. Nor did he ever think he'd ever actually  _talk_ to himself.

Young Luke is grasping his iPhone 4 for dear life, but he freezes as he's dialing the number. He looks up, his eyes clearly scared. "How do you know my name?" he squeaks.

(But then young Luke  _really_ gets a look at the stranger in his bedroom. He's much taller than him, but he looks so  _familiar._ The blue eyes, the blond hair, the facial structure. It's almost as if he's staring in the mirror at an older version of himself).

"Look," Luke says, "I know this is gonna sound really crazy, and trust me, I'm freaking out just as much as you are. But... I think you're me. From like, 2013."

Young Luke releases the grip on his phone, but manages to scuffle with it, saving it from an untimely demise. He's looking back up at old Luke, mouth hung open in utter shock. As both Lukes stare at each other in disbelief, the air seems to get thicker for the both of them, and they're finding it hard to breathe.

"I-If you're really me, tell me the name of the band I'm in! A-And tell me the names of some of our songs!" young Luke exclaims.

"Easy, 5 Seconds of Summer," Luke says, "and what year is it?"

Young Luke furrows his brows. "It's 2012."

"And the date?"

"November thirtieth... what does that have to do with—"

"So far, you have 'Gotta Get Out' and 'Out of My Limit' out I think... and since it's the end of November, I'm guessing you're probably busy packing for that songwriting trip to London."

Young Luke gapes in complete disbelief. "And, in 2013 you'll go on a world tour with One Direction, sign with Capitol Records, and in 2014 you'll have a worldwide hit called 'She Looks So Perfect' and—" Luke has to stop himself there because he could go on forever, but he really doesn't want his younger self to pass out from actual shock.

"You... how do you know all that? How do you know I'm leaving for London in a few days?" young Luke asks, his voice small.

"Because, like I said, I  _am_ you. Just six years older," Luke says. "And I said things that you don't even know about, because they haven't happened yet. I, on the other hand, have lived through them. I've lived through it all."

Luke is suddenly exhausted, he's lightheaded, and the room is spinning. He's not dizzy per se, but he's definitely feeling really off. It feels like a weird head rush, maybe a headache. He doesn't know how to describe it. Maybe  _he's_ the one going into shock. He's panicking, because  _fuck,_ what if he's stuck in 2012 forever? What if the band wakes up and suddenly he's not there anymore?

Young Luke puts his phone back in his pocket cautiously. "You... you really are me?" Young Luke doesn't know how to phrase it, as a statement or a question, because he really does believe the man standing in front of him, but he's having a really hard time accepting this is probably reality.

"Yeah," old Luke breathes. "And before you ask me what's going on, no, I don't know what's going on either."

The two are stuck between staring at each other and frantically glancing around the room because neither of them know what to do. To Luke's surprise, his younger self is the first one to speak after seconds of glass-shattering silence.

"So... what happens to us?"

Luke can't help but look at his sixteen-year-old self and smile. He's looking up at him with an innocence far too great to ignore, an innocence that Luke still wishes he had. He doesn't know what the hell is going on, and he's still panicking on the inside, but he figures there's no harm in chatting with his younger self about his band's ambitious endeavors.

"You might wanna have a seat," he tells his young self.

-

"Are you  _serious?_ You guys beat out Jay-Z and Beyoncé?"

Luke chuckles. "Yeah, we did. Trust me, I was surprised when I found out too."

Luke and mini-Luke are sat on his bedroom floor at the side of the bed. Luke went through everything, the albums, the fans, the tours. He talked about the band's successes and triumphs, the best and worst performances, the award shows and the documentary. He left out the names of their songs and lyrics in case he really did go back in time; he really doesn't want to mess up  _too_ much. Young Luke sat there and listened, not interrupting once.

When Luke thinks he's gone through everything, he simply says, "So, yeah. The band is definitely worth leaving school for."

Young Luke laughs, and Luke can't help but look at his hair;  _god,_ why did he ever think that fringe was a good idea? It was probably Michael's fault. Yeah, definitely Michael's.

"Are you and Michael and Calum and Ashton still best friends?" youngster Luke asks.

"Yeah," Luke replies.

Then he's hit with a tsunami of flashes in his mind, memories of things Luke always wanted to forget, things that Luke wished had never happened. It's so quick, not even a few seconds long, but it seems to slap him all at once, and suddenly he's out of breath. "Yeah," he repeats, breathless.

"Are you okay?" Young Luke is looking at him with concern in his eyes, but Luke can't see it because his eyes are focused on the floor, where the memories are pooling, and before Luke knows it, it's happening again.

There's shouting. There's arms flailing, glass shattering. Maybe there's a punch here and there. He can't remember what happened there. There's kissing. There's touching. There's flirting and sex and pleasure.

There are tears. There's _love_.

"Luke?"

Luke is surprised to hear his own name come from his own self. It's enough to snap him out of his memory nightmare, and he's really grateful for his younger self for getting him out of it. He's panting, and younger Luke has a hand on his shoulder.

"What happened?" Young Luke's voice is so feeble yet concerned. "What _happens_?"

Luke blinks, his eyes still focused on the floor. The memories have stopped, but he's still feeling them in his body. They're racing through his veins, trying to reach his brain again. He shuts them out, like he's always done, but they're burning his skin, frying his bones, and he wants it to stop.

"Luke," Luke says, "are  _you_ and Michael still best friends?" He knows it's a stupid question. It's 2012, of  _course_ he knows that sixteen-year-old him and seventeen-year-old Michael are still best friends.

But Luke also knows that they're so much more than that.

Young Luke is confused by this as well. "Well yeah, of course. I thought you would know that."

"I do," Luke whispers. "But because I'm you, I know a lot more than you think."

Young Luke's eyes widen and he can feel himself blushing. "You mean, you know about the... you know—"

"I know that you and Michael kissed on his birthday, and that you're totally falling head-over-heels in love with him."

And that's it, Luke can feel his heart literally bursting in his chest. It's so _painful;_ it's like every rib is broken, his lungs are completely devoid of air, and his bones are screaming. The memories haven't gone to his brain; they've gone to his heart. Some weird organ that's associated with love and pain, despite the brain being the actual source of such feelings. But it starts with his heart and ventures out.

His body is broken.

"Luke, what happens? What happens to me and Michael?" young Luke asks frantically.

Luke doesn't want to speak. He doesn't want to tell this Luke, the one who's only just beginning to fall in love, in  _real_ love, that he ends up on his own, with his one love as just a bandmate, all because everything else would fall apart if they're together.

But young Luke is with him, with a hand on his shoulder. And Luke remembers, it's  _him,_ it's  _himself_ who's comforting him, and it's all becoming one huge mess of confusion and frustration. He doesn't know if this is some weird epiphany or if he really did time travel, but his younger self is scared,  _terrified,_ of what's to come.

He knows, because he remembers it.

"You two... you and Michael really love each other," Luke finally answers. "You guys are really loyal to each other. You like to kiss and cuddle, though the band itself really likes to cuddle." He chuckles. Some of the pain is starting to lift. "There's no other love like it. Michael dyes his hair a lot, and sometimes he lets you help. He's quite possessive and gets jealous a lot if other people try to touch you, even Ashton and Calum. You get jealous too, but it's more of a 'pay attention to meee' kind of jealous. And there are some nights where you two just bask in each others' company, where you just lay in a pool of love, and..."

Luke trails off. There's a pain in his chest again, but it's different this time. It's not bone-shattering. It's aching.

Young Luke is staring up at him, his blue eyes glossed over. "There are really hard days. There are days where the two of you want to give up."

Luke can't bring himself to say what happens.

"Do we... do we give up?" young Luke asks.

Luke swallows, though his throat is so dry. "In a way, yes."

There's silence. It's deafening. Young Luke looks away, down at the floor where old Luke is looking. "How?"

"How what?"

"How do you and Michael give up?" Young Luke looks back at himself.

The ache in his chest grows in magnitude, but his bones aren't shattering. It's just his heart. "You two decide that... because of the band, you can't be together. There are people and publicity involved, and you're both forced to love someone else."

His heart is about to burst again. He's surprised he's gone this long without crying. By now, he'd be a mess of tears on the floor, with sobs as strong as lightning strikes. God knows he's been like that several times.

"Do we stop loving each other?"

It bursts. There's a flood again, but it's not as painful as before. It still is, but it's a refreshing river rather than a wildfire.

"No, I don't think so. At least, I never did."

Luke finally glances up from the floor. He's realized it. It's always been that way. No matter how many times he's tried to tell himself, no matter how many times he's used other people's bodies to try to conceal it, no matter how many times he's screamed at himself in the mirror that he doesn't love him, that he never did...

...he does. And he thinks he always will.

Young Luke and old Luke are staring at the wall, knees taut to their chests with their arms resting on them. "What about Mikey?"

Luke has to think. He really wants to believe that Michael still loves him. There's a part of him that _does_ believe it, but maybe it's the same part that tells himself that he doesn't love Michael anymore, that Michael doesn't love him anymore.

There were arguments. There were times where Luke couldn't keep it in. There were times where he and Michael screamed at each other because of how frustrated they were. There was really, really angry sex. But it always ended up the same way; Michael and Luke went their separate ways, to the people they're forced to love, because they can't love each other.

The rivers in his body are speaking to him.

"He does," Luke answers. "He still loves me."

There's another moment of silence. It's calm. Luke can feel it. It's not blazing anymore, it's smooth, tranquil.

_He still loves me._

Young Luke looks at his older self.

_He has to._

"That's all that matters then, right?"

_It's always been that way. It always will be._

There are tears.

" _Yes_ , that's all that matters," Luke cries. "That's all that matters. We fucking love each other, and I'm damn sure we always will. And Luke, promise me,  _promise_ me, that you won't let fame or  _anything_ change that."

Young Luke is crying too, though not as hard as older Luke. "I won't. I won't, Luke."

"There are going to be hard times.  _Really_ hard times. There are going to be times where you wish you were dead. There are going to be times where you want to run away and quit the band and leave everything you've ever worked for. But no matter what,  _never_ tell yourself that you don't love him. Because you do. And you always will."

Young Luke nods. "I understand. I understand, Luke."

Luke wants to collapse.

"Luke," young Luke says, "I don't know what happens specifically, and from what you've told me, I don't think I want to know. But also from what you've told me, you never stopped loving him. And I get why. I'm obviously not in love with him as much now as you are with him six years in the future. But he's so fucking amazing, you know? I mean, I don't think I love him  _yet,_ but I can feel myself falling every day. And man, I can't wait until he dyes his hair."

Luke laughs dryly. He can't even remember the first color Michael dyed his hair. Was it black? Or blue? Black and blue? Or maybe black and green? Luke can't remember. Michael stopped dyeing his hair a while ago. Maybe his brain has been trying to forget more than he thought.

"I never want to forget this feeling," young Luke mumbles. "He's so easy to love, and loving him is so easy. It's just... I'm so sorry that all that shit happens, whatever that shit is. But, like, if I'm going to promise you something, can  _you_ promise  _me_ something?"

Luke looks at his younger self. Their eyes meet.

"Promise me that you'll tell Michael that you love him. It doesn't matter when, or how. Just let him know. And don't let him forget it."

There's an ocean. Luke can feel it.

"I promise. I will, Luke," Luke tells his young self. "And..."

There's a bright flash. Something is happening.

"Never forget this feeling," Luke finishes.

There's another bright flash, and another, and another. It's blinding, and Luke squeezes his eyes shut to block them, but with his eyes closed, he can see himself, sixteen years old, staring back at him. He's getting farther and farther away. He's waving.

_I won't forget. I'll never forget._

Luke can't tell whose voice it is.

-

**2013**

_"Hey, Michael?"_

_"Yeah?"_

_"Can you promise me something?"_

_"What is it?"_

_"It's just... we're on a really good path right now. We're making it. We're living our dream, but like—"_

_"Luke..."_

_"I don't want anything to change. I love what we have now and I love_ you  _and I'm just so scared of what's going to happen once we're, y'know, really famous."_

_"Luke—"_

_"I_ love  _you, Michael. And I just have this feeling that I always will. So just... can you promise me that you won't forget? That we loved each other?"_

_"Luke, why the hell would you even say that?"_

_"Huh?"_

_"Why would you even_ use  _past tense? We love each other. I'm sure as hell not going to forget, because we love each other and we're_ always going  _to love each other."_

_"Michael..."_

**2014**

_"I love you, and nothing's going to change that. No matter how famous we get, no matter how hard life kicks our ass, I won't ever forget, nor will I ever stop loving you. Okay Luke?"_

_"Okay."_

_"Okay. Oh, and happy new year, babe."_

-

When Luke opens his eyes, he's awake. It's like he's just woken up, but he's not laying in bed. He's standing, right in the middle of his hotel room.

A familiar feeling rises in his eyes, and there's the memory of him sitting in his room with his younger self. It really did happen. He can remember it all, the conversation, the heart-shattering, the bone-breaking, the rivers flooding, but it stops there.

He's dressed in the same clothes he went to bed in. He's dressed in the same clothes he talked to his younger self in.

His entire body his heavy. He stumbles backwards onto the bed and just sits there. His phone goes off a couple times, but he's too lost in thought to check it. He doesn't know what time it is. He thinks he's back in 2018.

There's a flashing image of green eyes.

Luke sucks in a breath because  _holy fuck,_ there's no way that's possible...

He snaps himself out of his trance and throws on some decent clothes. He knows he's got another busy day ahead of him, with greeting fans and performing a show, but after that, he needs to live up to his promise.

He hasn't forgotten. He hasn't forgotten a thing.

 


	2. whiskey never starts to taste nice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke promised himself he would confront the one thing standing in between him and his love. And that one thing _is_ himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well time to cry some more.

Luke isn't sure where or when or how to talk to Michael.

He knows he has to, not only because he promised his younger self that he would, but also because he can feel it all again. He feels all the anger and frustration that he's felt so many times before. All those times he and Michael got into heated arguments, all because they were furious that the universe threw them together. They were usually drunk during those arguments, because they'd always say things to each other that they'd never say sober. It's happened before, so many times, but this time is different.

Luke promised himself, his  _younger_ self that he would let Michael know that he loves him.  _Still_ loves him. Luke thinks that maybe Michael already knows, that he's known all along, and chooses to ignore it. But then Luke would be a hypocrite, because he's done the exact same thing. Ignore it. Shove it away. Bury himself in other people to try to convince himself that he doesn't love Michael, not anymore. But he can't do it any longer, he's done. He needs Michael to know.

He needs Michael to remember.

(He sure hopes Michael hasn't forgotten).

They're on the tour bus on the way to the next city. It's going to be another day, another day full of routine greeting fans, rehearsal, soundcheck, performing. But Luke is determined to not go out that night no matter how much Ashton insists, and he's not going to get drunk and tell Michael that he loves him, because Luke loves Michael even when his blood isn't full of liquor.

He loves Michael every time his heart beats.

Maybe it's all been a plan. To get him drunk so he can forget. Forget the anger, forget the arguments. Forget the pain, forget the love.

Forget Michael.

But Luke doesn't know who would plan such a thing, and if someone did, he thinks they're pretty stupid, because there's no way he can ever forget Michael. No amount of alcohol or sex can change that. Nothing can change that.

Luke can't help but wonder why all of a sudden these memories are coming back to him. Not the arguments, he usually forgets them the second he wakes up the morning after, while only remembering the smallest, most painful details. He's remembering the times where he made Michael promise him that nothing would change between them, that they wouldn't let fame get to their heads or make them forget how much they love each other...

He's remembering it all. And maybe the memories have always been there, but it's so strange that they're coming back to him  _now._ They're not false memories, they definitely happened...

Visions of him and Michael laying on his living room couch, limbs intertwined, burn in his mind. It's almost like he can hear every word. They've promised each other so many times, they won't let fame get to them. They'll never forget that they love each other. They'll never forget how they make each other feel. Michael would flick Luke in between the eyes whenever he'd use past tense. Michael would always tell him not to be stupid because there's no way he would ever forget. Michael would cradle Luke in his arms whenever Luke broke down because things were getting more and more difficult. And Michael was the one to reassure him that he loves him, will always love him, and fame and fortune would never change that.

Luke wonders when it all went wrong.

Maybe he can't remember where things went sour because he doesn't  _want_ to remember. Maybe it happened over time, maybe the flame fizzled out so slowly that Luke never noticed it. Maybe Luke was too tired from keeping aflame a love that could never last to begin with. Maybe his heart needed to rest.

Whatever the case, his heart is still burning, the match is still lit. The fire may be weak, but Luke's final resolve is to reignite it.

It's there. It's always been there, and it always will be.

_That's all that matters then, right?_

 -

As Luke predicted earlier that day, Ashton tries to get him to go out clubbing after the show.

"You just seem a bit rigid is all," says Ashton. "Figured you could use a bit lightening up."

Luke shakes his head. "No, Ashton. I just wanna stay in tonight."

There's silence between them. Though Luke expected this, he's still confused. Ashton isn't one to force someone into doing something they didn't want to do, and Ashton isn't one to be persistent after finding out someone  _really_ doesn't want to do whatever that something is. But Ashton isn't leaving, he isn't saying 'okay, suit yourself' and walking out the door. It's unlike him, and Luke notices that.

"Come on," Ashton persists. "It'll be fun. I can tell you're a bit stressed—"

"Which is precisely why I'd like some time to myself," Luke cuts him off quickly. He's easily getting fed up with Ashton, and he's starting to think that Ashton is that person whose plan is to make him forget.

He really doesn't want to believe it. There's no way Ashton would plan something like that.

"Luke," Ashton says, "what's going on?"

"What do you mean?" Luke's not dumb, though he's trying to play it. But that's the thing, Ashton isn't dumb either; in fact, Ashton knows all his band members better than he knows himself. Ashton knows whenever one of his friends is down in the dumps or just a little bit off-center. And that's the icing on the cake; Ashton is persistent until he finds out whatever is bothering his friends.

Luke thinks he can do it differently than getting him drunk, though.

"I think we both know what I mean," Ashton says. "You've been acting really weird today. You're obviously stressed, you're getting distracted and staring off into space more than you usually do, and something tells me that something happened yesterday or last night that's causing you to be like this. So, what's the deal?"

Luke can't tell him the truth. He can't tell Luke that he mysteriously woke up in his bedroom in Sydney and had an eye-opening conversation with his younger self that may or may not have shaped his entire life up until now. Ashton would surely have him sent in for a psych evaluation, not because he wants to, he just really cares about his friends.

He can't tell the whole truth, but he can tell a half-truth. "A fan asked me a question yesterday that bugged me the whole day yesterday and today," Luke says. "She asked me what my younger self would think about me if he saw me today."

Ashton raises an eyebrow. "And? I think he'd be pretty proud of you."

Luke shakes his head. "If he knew everything I've done up until now, I think he'd be pretty disappointed in me."

Ashton sighs and takes a seat next to Luke on the bed. He puts an arm around Luke's shoulders. "Maybe. But that's okay, y'know? We all do things that people are proud of us for, and in contrast we do things that people are disappointed in us for. It's normal."

The way younger Luke's eyes pooled with tears flashes in Luke's mind. Yes, Ashton is right. Young Luke was so proud that they beat out two of the world's most famous artists for number one. But he could tell by the way he reacted, that young Luke was disappointed that he let Michael go.

He's not going to let go again. He's going to keep his promise to his younger self, he's not going to get drunk tonight, and he's going to tell Michael that he loves him, has always loved him, and always will.

"He'd be proud of me, yeah. But... I've done more things to be disappointed in. And I think he'd probably hate me for the things I've done."

No, that's not right. Younger Luke didn't hate him. Young Luke wanted him to bring Michael back, for him to tell Michael that he loves him. Young Luke didn't hate him, but he sure would if he broke his promise.

And Luke isn't about to break a promise he made to himself from six years ago.

"I like to think I know myself," Luke says. "A lot of times, I don't think I do. But my younger self, he'd look at me a say, 'what about the people you held dearest to you? What did you do about them?' And if he found out what I did, he'd hate me."

Ashton's eyes widen. "Luke, you're not talking about... you can't be serious."

As expected from Ashton, the wise mind of the group. The first one to figure things out.

He sighs. "Luke, you can't keep doing this. You know you can't keep thinking about him like that. It's time to move on."

Luke wants to explode because no, it's not time to move on, it's never time to move on because he  _can't,_ he never has, and he never will. He wants to scream, he wants to yell at Ashton and tell him everything, how wrong he is. But Luke also knows that what Ashton's saying has truth to it. Loving Michael is hard. It's taken an obvious toll on him, and Ashton doesn't want that for any of his friends. And since two of them are wrapped up in the whole situation, he knows that it has to stop.

Still, Luke shakes his head. "Getting me drunk isn't a solution. It's not going to make me forget," he mutters bitterly.

Ashton sighs again. He's not frustrated, he just hurts for his friend. "Luke, I didn't mean it like—"

"Getting me drunk is what makes it worse," Luke says, a bit louder. "Every time me and him fight, one or both of us is drunk. It's almost like any time we actually talk to each other, we're intoxicated. Oddly enough, whenever we have the guts to tell each other that we love each other, we're drunk." He laughs, a cruel undertone in his voice. "It's fucking sad, Ashton. We're reduced to talking to each other only when we're drunk. But guess what? I still love him, no matter how drunk or sober I am. I can't even remember the last time I told him I love him sober."

His heart is racing. Ashton is staring at him with wide eyes, clearly taken aback. Words are falling out of his mouth like a waterfall, but he can't stop it.

"We small talk here and there while we're working, sure, but any communication we have is either fighting or drunken conversations that I don't remember. All I  _can_ remember is that maybe we tell one another that we love each other during those conversations. But no matter what happens when we're drunk, we always just go back to avoiding each other like nothing happened. But Ashton, it  _did_ happen.  _We_ happened. I know you said it's time to move on, but I  _can't,_ Ashton. You know that."

His heart is heavy and he feels tears brimming in his eyes. Ashton's arm tightens around him as his body shakes with a sob. "You know me better than anyone, Ash. Maybe even Michael. And you  _know_ how much I loved him. How much I _still_ love him."

He can't bring himself to look at Ashton. He's expecting Ashton to tell him how stupid he is, that he should really just move on from Michael and quit being so heartbroken, because Ashton knows just as well as him that they can't be together without ruining the band.

Yet Ashton's response surprises him.

"Then why don't you do something?"

Luke glances up at his bandmate. "What?"

"I said, if you love him so much, if you want to tell him you love him so much while you're sober, then why haven't you?"

Luke's heart cracks inside his chest. Why _hasn't_ he?

"Look," Ashton continues, "I know how much you love him. I do. I also know how bad it is for the band if you two are together. But I also know that sometimes the solution isn't to move on, especially from someone that you're pretty sure you'll love forever."

Luke is shaking harder.

"I know you well, Luke. I just don't know exactly what's stopping you from loving him."

Ashton is right, and Luke doesn't know either. It could be a lot of things, fear of the band breaking up, fear of people finding out. He just can't put his finger on what it  _really_ is. The reason why he's so reluctant to tell Michael that he loves him.

Or rather, tell  _himself._

"Now I know why you want to stay in tonight," Ashton says wholeheartedly. He stands up. "Luke, if you're really going to do this, you have to be prepared for the worst. I know all of you pretty well, but Michael... I have no idea how he'll react."

Luke nods, wiping a few tears from his eyes. Ashton smiles warmly at him and heads towards the door.

"Good luck, my friend." He walks out the hotel room, closing the door gently behind him.

-

Luke's heart is going to burst, as is the rest of his body. His body is going to fall like a skyscraper during an earthquake, and that earthquake's name is Michael Clifford.

He's standing outside Michael's hotel room door, his hands held tightly against his chest. Ashton told him to prepare himself, but there wasn't enough time. Luke had to get out of his room and run straight to Michael's.

But he's here now, and suddenly he's not so sure. He's not sure if he can do this, though he _really_ wants to. He needs to. He doesn't want to prepare for the worst because the worst  _can't_ happen. If it does... Luke doesn't know what he would do. He doesn't want to think about it. All he wants is to knock on the door and have Michael answer it. He wants to see Michael's face in a place that isn't a radio station or a performance venue.

He's knocking. There's a short pause. No one answers, and Luke is about to knock again when the door opens.

Michael stands in the doorway, dressed in a (really cute) sweater and some sweatpants, and Luke nearly collapses.

"What's up?" Michael asks casually.

"Um," Luke says, "just wanted to talk to you about something."

Michael blinks unknowingly, but doesn't ask anything further. He steps aside, allowing Luke to enter. When Luke walks in, he's smacked in the face with Michael's scent. It's something he hasn't smelt in a really long time, not this much. He's only really smelt it in passing, but now it's taking him back to when they'd cuddle nearly every day several years ago, when things were okay.

Luke wants things to be okay again.

"So what is it you want to talk about?" Michael asks as he closes the door. He walks past Luke towards the bed and stares out the glass doors leading out to a terrace.

Luke thinks he might have a heart attack. His chest hurts so much that maybe this isn't such a good idea after all. He's breathing really hard and he hopes Michael doesn't notice. Michael isn't looking at him.

"I just, um..." Luke wants to slap himself in the face.

Michael turns around and looks at Luke, but Luke can't meet his eyes. He's blinking rapidly, trying to find the words, but nothing's coming to him. He wants it to make sense, he wants Michael to understand him, but with the way his heart and his brain are on overdrive, he's not sure anything he says will make sense.

"Michael, if your younger self saw you today, what would he think?"

Michael continues to stare blankly at him. Luke wants to die. He wants to throw himself off the balcony and onto the streets. Maybe he'll find peace there.

Michael shrugs. "How young are we talking?"

Luke finally looks at him. "I dunno, sixteen, seventeen. Like when we first started out as a band."

Michael thinks for a second, his eyebrows knitting together. "He'd probably think our music is fucking sick. And that our fashion sense is pretty different, like, he'd never wear that stuff, but hey, it's all hypothetical."

Luke wants to laugh because that's such a Michael answer, but he's not smiling, he can't, because it's not all that hypothetical.

"Why do you ask?" Michael's still looking at him, but he can't read his expression. It's almost like he's a stranger. Luke used to always be able to tell Michael's feelings, but now he's looking at a blank canvas, one that he's never seen before. His heart hurts.

"A fan asked that question to me yesterday," Luke explains. "It's just been on my mind a lot. I asked Ashton the same thing."

Michael scoffs. "Is that why you've been so dodgy lately?"

"What?" Luke says meekly.

"Is that why you're so bothered lately? Because of a fan question?"

There's bitterness in his voice. Luke doesn't know where it's coming from. There's no way Michael would know about his intentions, coming to his room and asking him that question and ultimately professing his eternal love for him. But Michael isn't this bitter. He knows it. Luke knows it because he'd react the same way.

It's bitter denial.

"Yeah," Luke says. "It's really gotten me thinking a lot."

Michael turns back to the glass windows. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," Luke says more confidently. "It made me think about a lot of the shit I've done."

There's a pause. Silence. Luke can't tell what Michael's thinking because he can't see his face. Michael doesn't want him to see it, perhaps. 

So Luke keeps going. "I think my younger self would think I'm a shit person."

Michael still doesn't look back. "Why do you think that?"

It's almost as if Luke can see his sixteen-year-old self every time he blinks. He's standing there in a void of blackness, wearing that dorky blue striped hoodie, his hair slanted over in a fringe, and he's smiling. It's a light smile, an encouraging one.

"I broke a promise to him."

When Michael still doesn't turn around, Luke says, "I broke a promise I made him a long time ago because I failed someone. Someone I love."

It's out. The words are out. And Luke knows it'll only go downhill from there. Michael's head turns over his shoulder, but his eyes stay fixed on the adjacent wall. Luke still can't read his face. "What are you talking about?" he grits.

"I made a promise to myself when I was younger," Luke says. It's all starting to make sense. It's like a firework goes off in Luke's brain. It's bright, it's sudden, and Luke can feel it all. "I promised myself that I'd let this person know that I love them, no matter what." His younger self waves in his vision. "And I promised I wouldn't let them forget."

Michael turns around.

Though his expression is still unreadable, he's looking back at Luke again with those familiar green eyes that he fell in love with when he was sixteen. Luke nearly loses his breath because those eyes seem to flash brighter, and then Michael has black hair. And an eyebrow piercing. But it's gone before Luke can register it.

"What are you saying, Luke?" Michael asks flatly.

Luke can feel every single part of the weather in his body. His heart is on fire, but he's so cold. Hail is pounding on his bones and thunder strikes at his brain. It's hard to breathe. His next words could make or break him. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. His sixteen-year-old self is smiling at him with a black-haired boy in his arms.

"I'm not going to let you forget, Michael," Luke says finally.

Michael's face falls. Luke can't tell if it's because of anger or sadness or  _what,_ but his expression is now somewhat readable. It's one of pain, definitely, but there's something else. Michael seems to be at a loss for words, but Luke sure as hell isn't.

"I'm not going to let you forget like I did," Luke continues. His heart drops because he's here now, he's face-to-face with the one person he's sure he'll love forever. There's one thing standing in between them, and that one thing is himself. It all makes sense. He just can't believe it took a conversation with himself from 2012, the year he started falling in love, to realize everything he's been furiously denying for years.

He can't see his younger self anymore. He's on his own.

"Maybe it's best if you  _do_ forget, Luke," Michael mutters.

No. Luke knows that's not true. Michael is doing exactly what he's been doing all along. It's not true because it's not best if he forgets. He  _can't_ forget. And even if he did, Luke is sure it would come back to haunt him, it would eat away at him from the inside out, and he'd never be able to live with himself. No, he'll never forget how hard he fell in love with his best friend, nor has he once forgotten, despite trying so hard to do so.

"I don't want to," Luke says. "I don't want to because I  _can't,_ no matter how much I try to poison my brain with alcohol."

Michael bites his lip and looks down at the floor, but Luke is nowhere near done.

"Remember that night on New Years? When you promised me you wouldn't let fame change us?"

Michael nods.

"I'm the one who made you promise that, yet I couldn't even hold up that same promise that I made to myself. You told me that you'd never stop loving me. You told me you'd never forget. And I'm the one who's tried to forget it all, because maybe I couldn't come to terms with it. I couldn't juggle love and the band at the same time, because I was afraid it would wreck everything we've worked so hard to make. I was so fucking selfish for trying to forget you, Michael. I didn't even realize I was doing it. I told myself all the time that I didn't love you, but no matter how hard I tried to deny it or push it away, it always came back because it's  _you,_ Michael. It's you, it always has been, and it always will be."

Luke is bold and takes a step closer to Michael. He's relieved when Michael doesn't step back. Michael looks back at him with bewildered eyes, his lips trembling. Luke comes closer and closer, and Michael doesn't move an inch.

They're literally face-to-face now.

"You're wrong, Luke."

Luke can't believe what he's heard. He can feel his heart drop to the floor. What has he been doing? Has it all been pointless? Worrying and thinking so much to the point of exhaustion, to the point of his body feeling like it's caving in? Was it all—

"You're wrong, because you're not the only one who was trying to forget."

Luke's heart starts to rise. "What?" he whimpers.

Michael lets out a deep breath. "You think I haven't tried? Luke, we're two sides of the same coin. You think you're the only one who tried to forget? Hell, Luke, I tried all the time! Do you know how many times I slept with  _her_ just to try to convince myself I loved her and not you?"

Luke steps back, not because he's angry or anything, but because he can feel Michael's hot breath on him and he thinks he might actually faint if he's that close to him right now.

Michael looks at him, his green eyes burning brighter than Luke has ever seen. "Of  _course_ I remember that promise I made to you. I remember everything. I remember the times we cuddled, all the times we kissed and fucked and told each other how much we loved each other, even when we were drunk out of our minds. Trust me, Luke, I was  _terrified,_ and I still am. But even though I was terrified and frustrated and was so fed up with everything that I wanted to give up, it always came back to  _you._ "

Luke feels like he's been punched in the throat. There are fresh tears flowing down Michael's face now, his green eyes surrounded by red. "We promised  _each other_ that we wouldn't forget. We promised  _each other_ that we'd always love each other. Like I said, Luke, we're two sides of the same coin, both when we love each other or try so hard to forget each other. We're stupid idiots who can't confront the  _real_ problem, the real problem being that we can't forget, that we can't stop loving each other even if we tried."

Luke finds himself stepping forward again, this time, to cup Michael's face in both his hands and wipe away his lover's tears. Michael holds Luke's wrists, anchoring his hands on his face. He doesn't want Luke to let go, not again. Luke swipes at every tear that falls, and he can feel himself tearing up too.

"Luke, I never stopped loving you, no matter how hard I tried to. I was a coward. I was so afraid to face the truth, that I love you so goddamn much. I'll love you til the fucking end of time, even if the band is in ruins and there's nothing left, I'm telling you, I will love you  _forever._ "

Luke wants to smile. His own tears have started to fall, and Michael's grip has tightened on his wrists significantly. "We're such idiots," Luke breathes as he presses his forehead to Michael's.

Michael nods. "Yeah, we are."

Luke's heart rises, and he closes the gap between them, pressing his lips firmly against Michael's. Michael doesn't even hesitate, his lips immediately moving against Luke's, and for once, neither of them taste like whiskey. Luke's heart is afire, his bones are blooming flowers, and his lungs can only breathe in Michael, the one thing he really can't live without. His hands move to the back of Michael's neck as he deepens the kiss, not wanting to let go.

But he pulls away first, and he says, "It's you." He breathes it over and over until it's etched in Michael's lips and skin. "It's you, it always has been, and it always will be."

Luke doesn't recall when they had sunken to the floor and cried each others' arms. He doesn't recall he ends up sitting cross-legged with Michael's head resting on his thigh, his hand gently caressing his hair.

"What now?" Michael asks.

Luke doesn't know. He can never be sure, what with all the fame and publicity and alcohol and sex.

He shrugs. "We don't forget. And we don't try to."

Michael sighs contently and buries his head in the crook of Luke's thigh.

But the truth is, he hasn't forgotten. He remembers everything. He thinks he's always remembered, ever since the day he promised himself that he wouldn't let either of them forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh well thank you to whoever reads this. hope you enjoyed :) 
> 
> (i totally didn't cry writing this while listening to outer space)

**Author's Note:**

> i almost cried writing this, ALMOST. i'll probably cry writing the second part though. ugh.


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